


Yes and No

by orphan_account



Series: Ally, Baby [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Affairs, Age Difference, Allison-centric, Angst, Barebacking, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fantasizing, In Public, Jealousy, Nipple Play, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Underage Sex, mentions of anal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:09:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To Allison, it's as if a countdown clock's been set. She wonders if it matters that she's not 18. Is that hot to him? Is that why he wants to? It doesn't matter, she decides, but it'll probably happen before her birthday. </p><p>She thinks about him, sometimes. About his hands and his shoulders and how brazenly he'd stared at her chest and legs. About his stance and the way he sits with his legs sprawled wide. About how he's like Scott, but not at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fully aware that no one asked for this, and yet--
> 
> Post 3a, I suppose.

It's going to happen. It's just a matter of time.

That summer, Allison sees Agent McCall at the athletic club, mostly. It starts months before that, though, in early spring, after dinner at the Stilinski's. Or it starts before that, even, the first time they meet and there's something about Agent McCall's stare that makes Allison blush instantly. 

No one seems to notice, strangely. Least of all Scott, who's so disgusted with his father that he more or less wills him into nonexistence. And the rest of the gang's too distracted by the eerie stillness that follows the incidents with the Darach and the Alpha Pack. Despite Deaton's warnings, no one shows up. Beacon Hills is quiet and healing, and the pack's too busy licking their wounds in wonderment to even imagine that anything more... domestic is afoot.

But to Allison, it's as if a countdown clock's been set. She wonders if it matters that she's not 18. Is that hot to him? Is that why he wants to? It doesn't matter, she decides, but it'll probably happen before her birthday. 

She'd worry more, feel guilty more, if it felt like she had any choice in the matter. 

She thinks about him, sometimes. About his hands and his shoulders and how brazenly he'd stared at her chest and legs. About his stance and the way he sits with his legs sprawled wide. About how he's like Scott, but not at all. 

////

“Hi Mr. McCall,” Allison calls. They're in the hallway between the pool and the weight room, with no one else around. 

“Allison,” he says, turning around from the door to the locker room. He seems ready to scold her for the teasing greeting, but then his expression softens and turns pleasant. A little curious. “You look pretty today.”

Allison rolls her eyes and lets out a little laugh. She's wet from the pool, wet braid plastered to the side of her neck, and her skin's a blotchy red. 

He doesn't react to her bashfulness, just walks over to her and plucks a wet strand of hair from her forehead, placing it gently to the side. 

“Do you know how old I am?” he asks, eyes slipping down her body in a hot, liquid way.

The turn in conversation makes her freeze. It's not like Allison to be uninformed, but she's been avoiding that information intentionally. 

“No,” she confesses. 

Agent McCall raises both his hands and moves them slightly, so lightly, across the wet sides of her bathing suit.

“I'm 47, Allison.” His voice is light and conversational. “How old are you?”

“I'm 17, Mr. McCall.”

He steps back, and smiles. Allison's heart is pounding so loudly that it seems to echo in the empty space.

“See you later,” he says. “If you like.”

/////

They're getting to know each other, supposedly. Or something. They mostly speak in questions and answers, is the point. Allison can't decide if it's slow-motion small talk or the careful circling of two adversaries. 

In fact, she can't decide if she hates him or not. Should she?

Things with Scott are fine. That's the word-- fine. The word is short and flat. There's just not much to say.

And she loved him, sure, and she loves him now, in a way, but somehow her loyalty doesn't seem concerned with his feelings towards his father. 

Scott would hate her if he knew. No-- Stiles. Stiles would hate her the most. He'd never forgive her. But somehow that's what she likes, how bad and wrong it is, how it's the worst betrayal but she still thinks about him at night, still gets hot and flushed, still bails on her friends to hit the gym when she knows he'll be there....

Sometimes they swim laps at the same time. 

Does he like that she used to date Scott, Allison wonders? Is that why? 

Does she want him because he's Scott's dad? Is that why?

////

One of those questions gets answered pretty quickly. The other might never, Allison admits to herself. There's a limit to the amount of self-awareness a person can stomach.

They're in the men's locker room. It's not a safe space. The athletic club's pretty dead at this hour but it's not private at all, and Allison's senses are on overdrive. Every noise makes her jump.

“You dated Scott,” Agent McCall starts, standing about five feet in front of her. Allison's watching his face and furiously avoiding looking down at his swimming trunks. His comment's somewhere between a question and statement, but she can't read his tone, so she responds. 

“Yes.”

“Did you suck his cock?”

“Yes.”

“Did you let him eat your pussy?”

“Yes.”

“Did you take his cock in your pussy?”

“Yes.”

“Did you take his cock in your ass?”

“N-no.” Something about the break in the rhythm shakes Allison out of it, makes her realize she's been holding her breath. She feels trapped. She likes it, but-- it's dangerous. Shouldn't be telling him.

“We-- we didn't do that,” she stutters, buying time to regain her composure. This is an interrogation. She knows how to stop this. “We didn't talk about it.”

I shouldn't do this, she thinks. I should stop, tells herself weakly. I can stop. 

“But you let him fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yes.”

I can't stop. I don't want to stop.

////

Allison puts on a thin sweater and a lacy bra. Then changes-- no bra. Then changes-- a cotton t-shirt. Then again-- a tank top. It's thin and silky, basically lingerie, and nearly sheer. She's shivering from nerves even as her skin feels flushed and hot.

She looks in the mirror. She can see the dark points of her nipples through the top. It flutters lightly when a breeze moves in through her open bedroom window.

Scott's at Stiles' house. Allison knows because she drove by and looked in the window, saw them standing in the kitchen laughing about something. The whole time she told herself that it wasn't for any reason, that she wasn't going to do anything, just was just-- it was a coincidence. Just curiosity that drove her down that street. To check.

But the truth is she was doing her homework. She knows how to be thorough when it counts. Allison checked into Melissa's schedule a week before, too, called the hospital again just to be sure. And Sheriff Stilinski has the night shift at the station.

Her own father is-- gone. She's sure. She doesn't think about it.

So she drives to the McCall's and gets out of the car before she can think twice. She thinks she might be getting wet already. Knocks on the door and squares her shoulders.

When he opens the door, he looks her in the eye and says, “Hi, Ally.”

There's a small smile on his lips, like he's trying not to show his amusement.

“Hi, Mr. McCall.”

His smile widens. It might be the honorific, or it might be the game they're playing where they greet each other like they aren't alone, at night, on the threshold of a very empty house.

He looks down, then, eyes fixed on her chest. Between her nerves and the arousal, she can feel that her nipples are hard and tight, hypersensitive. She's aware of every millimeter of fabric brushing over them.

“I'm glad you came by,” he says, tone casual, still staring. “I like the way you look in that, Ally.”

He steps forward quickly and takes the straps of her tank top, one in each hand. He pulls them down once, harshly, and tucks them beneath her breasts, so that her tits are pushed up from below. Allison's mind is rushing and she realizes that her mouth is open, breath coming in little gasps. There are neighbors. She's on the front step, still, not even inside the house. 

She'd only meant to tease, not-- like this. 

Agent McCall tugs the straps and gives her tits a little jiggle, watches them bounce in the open air. He looks satisfied.

“Right now's not a good time, Ally, but I'm glad you came by. Would you like to come again sometime?”

She's frozen, now. Vulnerable and exposed and-- ashamed. Aroused. Everything feels out of control.

But she nods, somehow. Yes. She would. She likes how it feels to stand here, top pulled down, tits bouncing as Agent McCall pushes them softly with his thumb. She wants him to touch her. She wants to do whatever he likes.

“Good girl,” he says mildly. “God, you have pretty tits.”

He pinches her right nipple and she gasps loudly.

“See you some other time.”

And then he pulls the top of her tank back over her breasts and steps back behind the closing door.

/////

It's two days later, eating a lazy fast food dinner with Lydia, thats she runs into Scott and Stiles. Stiles is ordering at the counter and Lydia's in the bathroom when Scott says,

“Hey, I know you're taking some time to yourself recently, and I-- I think it's good.” He's a little uncomfortable, she can tell, so she smiles encouragingly. “I just wanted to say that we all get it, you know?” He shrugs, smiles sweetly back. “It's OK to take some space, be by yourself.”

It's impossible not to nod and reach across the table to squeeze his hand, ignoring the rush of guilt that's knotting in her stomach. 

“Thanks, Scott,” she replies. “It's been good to clear my head, I guess.”

That night Allison masturbates and thinks about being fucked by Agent McCall while Scott watches.

////

She does the house routine again the next week. Same routine, same shifts, same careful checking that no one's around.

This time she wears a short skirt, no panties, and sits next to him on the couch. 

The windows out onto the street are open, but it's dark inside. Just one lamp on.

“I bet,” he whispers, moving his head in to speak right into her ear, “I bet you have a favorite. What's your favorite part, Allison? What do you like the best?” She closes her eyes, lost in how close his lips are to her ear. They've done-- hands. His hands have been on her body. But never his mouth.

“There's something about you, I think,” he muses. He moves his hand onto her thigh, squeezes right above the knee. “It's something about the way you came over to the house to show me your tits, walked right up to my door just to show me... you know I like the way you look, right?” He waits for her to nod. “You're so pretty, I know you like to look pretty.” 

He pulls back a little, stares at her directly as his hand moves softly up and down her thigh. Up and down, up, up, and down... He puts his mouth back up to her ear, lips catching on her skin as he whispers quietly. 

“I know you like your pussy to feel good, but I think you like to suck cock the best. Because you'd look so pretty, Ally, I bet you look so pretty with a cock in your mouth.”

His hand is at her crotch now, rubbing her through her skirt. She's wet, so wet that she knows she's soaking into the skirt. She wants to turn to the side to look at him, see if he's hard, see how how he's looking at her, but she doesn't. She just closes her eyes, feels her mouth drop open as his hand moves harder, faster.

“How many cocks have you sucked, Ally? Hmm? How many boys?”

She laughs. “How many would you like?”

“Oh I don't really care about that, Allison.” His voice is tense, suddenly, a little threatening. “I have pretty specific interests, here.”

She shudders involuntarily. Her knees are shaking.

“Do I scare you, baby?” 

The pet name makes her gasp. 

“Don't be scared, baby. I just want to be your daddy, let you look pretty for me.”

////

They go to a movie. It's a fucked up parody of a teenage date. He picks her up at the athletic club where no one will see. They drive nearly an hour away and see a romantic comedy that Allison will never remember. They barely touch, except for a moment in the dark of the theater when Agent McCall reaches up under Allison's top, under her bra, and rubs his thumb over her nipple, just for a moment. 

The long drive home is nearly silent. He parks just around the corner from her house, but still in the neighborhood. It's dangerous, she thinks. Like the locker room.

“Give me a kiss goodnight,” he says firmly. His voice is strong and steady, and it makes Allison feel like she's melting. She moves forward to put her mouth on his, but he moves back. 

“Not like that, Ally. Come on.” He frowns, face disapproving. “Give daddy a kiss goodnight,” he repeats.

And she gets it. Oh. It's this now. 

A split second of fear and the loss of imagination, that rich tension stretched so thin, and then--

Allison leans across the center console, just halfway, as he spreads his legs a wide. She can see the bulge through his khakis. Agent McCall's face is a warning, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“Ally,” he says impatiently. And then he unbuckles his belt. Gently-- “Just a little kiss.”

He's pushed his khakis down so that she can see the outline of his cock through his briefs.

He puts a head on the back of her head and pushes gently. This is the moment, she thinks. After this there's no going back, no way to claim that this was teasing or flirting, or-or-- a misunderstanding. 

She lets him push and lowers her mouth to the head of his cock. She keeps her lips soft, not quite kissing but not quite sucking, and feels him through the fabric. His hands move through her hair, on her neck, keeping her in place. 

God, it feels good. His skin is hot through the cotton, and he's thrusting minutely. His cock is huge, she can tell, pushed up to the right beneath straining fabric, and she can feel his pulse on her lips.

She takes the head into her mouth and sucks lightly, just wetting it, letting her saliva soak through his briefs before she licks with her tongue, growing bold. It only lasts a moment, though, before Agent McCall's hands tighten in her hair, pulling her head back slowly until she can look up into his eyes. 

She settles back into her seat.

“Good girl,” he says, eyes vicious. 

They stare at each other for a long moment, and Allison silently begs for more. She wants to pull his cock out, rub the hot skin on her cheek. She wants him to hold her and touch her, suck on her, spank her. She pulls her bottom lip through her teeth, pleading with her eyes. 

But he just pulls up his khakis and zips up. 

“Goodnight.”

////

Her dad leaves town again and Agent McCall comes over. They sit at the table and have a glass of wine. Red. He brought over the bottle. She's a little embarrassed for him. They barely touch their glasses, just sit in silence for upwards of ten minutes.

“Take your tits out,” Agent McCall says, finally. They're sitting across from each other, glass table in between them. Allison can see his legs beneath the table top, his feet spread and flat on the ground.

She does. She pulls them out of her bra so that they sit on top of the lacy cups, pushed up and perky. 

“You know, I like your swim suit. It makes everybody notice your legs,” he begins, eyes locked on her chest. His left hand wanders from the table top down to the his leg, then the inside of his thigh...

“The guys at the club talk about you. About your legs. About how you're young, probably dating some teenaged idiot who doesn't know what he's got.” He winks, knowingly. Neither of them fill in the blank. He's rubbing his hand over himself slowly, now, and there's a bulge in his jeans. Allison's mouth is watering.

The air conditioning breezes over his nipples and she can feel them harden, almost painfully. She shifts in her chair, but doesn't adjust. He'll get to his point.

“They don't know, though. They don't know how pretty your little titties are, or how you kiss me goodnight, or how wet you get.” He sighs, just short of a moan, and moves to unbuckle his belt.

“Did you like kissing me goodnight?” he continues as he pulls his cock out. He tucks his briefs underneath his balls and pushes his jeans down to mid-thigh. “Was I right? Do you like to look pretty with your mouth on my cock?”

She nods. Her body feels electric. She wants to sit on his cock so bad that she almost says so.

“Come over here,” he says, and he pulls his chair back from the table. The gestures to the space in front of him, so Allison drops to her knees in front of him. The tile of the floor is cold and hard.

“Closer,” he urges. She scoots forward until she's between his knees and he can reach down to touch her. “Pretty, pretty,” he murmurs, running a hand from her nipples up her neck. His cock is hard and massive in front of her, so big that it seems impossible. There's no way she could-- it's too big. 

“You can just give me a little kiss again,” he says in a soothing voice. “Just like before, that's all.” He's looking at her fondly, eyes soft. “I know you can suck cock, but I just want a little kiss.”

Allison's hungry for it, wants to open her mouth and swallow it, but she takes a breath instead. Lets the tension build and toys with her options. 

Agent McCall holds his dick at the base and waves it toward her mouth.

“Did you ever think you'd do this? When he was your little boyfriend, did you ever think you'd suck his dad's cock?”

Allison shakes her head. “No.”

“Did you like his cock?”

A little flicker of loyalty makes her pause. She can't talk about that, she can't-- Scott would never do this to her. Would never talk about her for a cheap thrill.

But the pause is too long, and her silence speaks volumes.

“Ah, he's not very big, is he? And he's so young, he doesn't know how to make you feel good.” Agent McCall strokes his cock slowly and Allison traces the movement with her eyes. Once, twice, all the way up and down. His hand barely fits around it.

“Do you like my cock, Ally?” His voice snaps her into focus, and she looks up at his face.

“Yes.”

“Will you give me that little kiss, then? Give your daddy a little kiss.”

She doesn't bother to correct him, just leans forward and takes the head into her mouth. She sucks the head of his cock, tongue moving gently, as he leans his head back and sighs. The taste is salty and tangy and his skin is warm, so warm, as she brings her hand up to hold the shaft. She closes her eyes and savors it, sucks and licks like a french kiss.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I have no idea. Back to our regularly scheduled Sterek after this, I promise.

They exchange numbers after that, since they'd somehow been operating just by running into each other and making plans at the club. Agent McCall texts Allison more than she texts him: 

goodnight, baby. 

Sleep well, princess. 

I'm in the locker room.

I'm in my car around the corner.

That one leads to a late night drive. It's a hot night and they end up in the dark corner of a parking lot at the community college. Agent McCall moves his seat back and sits her on his lap, sucking on her nipples and whispering into her collar bone. 

“Ally, Ally, Ally,” he repeats. “Baby, you're so pretty.”

Allison's talking more, now. This thing is real and solid, no longer just a game. Is he her boyfriend, she wonders? She's louder, says yes and says no and whispers back to him, telling him what she wants and what she thinks about. 

The first time she calls him 'daddy' she can feel the blood rush to her face, but she likes it. 

She asks him to spank her over his knee in the locker room, and he does. 

The first time she talks about Scott is the first time she comes with him. 

“He wasn't like this,” she says. She's on his lap again, facing him, no panties under her skirt. Agent McCall's pants are pushed down but his briefs are on, a thin layer of wet cotton between them. He's rubbing the head of his cock between the lips of her pussy, letting her grind against him and talk into his ear. They're at his house, at the kitchen table.

She used to do homework with Scott here. 

“He wasn't as big as you, and --” she gasps as he presses a thumb against her clit, threatening to slip inside her. “His cock wasn't this big, he wasn't as strong.” She shudders as his cock presses inward. She's slick and soaking. If he pulled his briefs down, he'd be fucking her.

She can feel Agent McCall smile against her as her body shakes. 

“Yeah, I like that, daddy,” she pants, wanting to goad him into it. “Please, come on, put your big cock in me, I can take it. I won't tell him,” she whispers, reaching for the elastic waistband of his briefs. “I won't tell him I call you daddy.”

Agent McCall's breathing is heavy as he holds her wrist and stops her from pulling them off. They both still for a moment and let the sounds of their breathing fill the room. He moves her hand to his side.

There's something about the fact that 'it' that hasn't happened yet. Sex. Fucking. Allison's anxious for it. It turns her on, when she thinks about it, gets her heated up faster than anything else. She wants to fuck. It's a stupid line to draw, and the whole situation's fucked anyway, but she wants-- that. The title, or something. Not, “I missed around,” or, “I blew him,” or, “We hooked up.”

She wants to say that she fucked him. Took his fat cock. Fucked Scott's dad. Fucked an older guy. Fucked someone older than her father. 

And then she'll want more, she knows. That's how it goes, it's always one thing and then another. When she showed up on his doorstep in that top, that barely-anything lingerie, she just wanted to touch. To have him touch her with a finger or a palm, just a little. Before that, she just wanted to know that he wanted her. That she was on his mind. 

But then Allison wanted to taste, and then she wanted to suck, and now she wants him to fuck her pussy, and she knows that as soon as he does, she'll want him to fuck her in the ass. She wants him to take the last thing she has to give. She wants him to have her completely, because she wants to give herself away. 

She wants to give him something that she never gave Scott. You thought we had something special? Look, I let your dad fuck my ass. I let him do everything you did and more. I took his cock raw. 

She and Scott never had sex without a condom.

She looks Agent McCall dead in the eye and then leans in softly, licks his lip a little and then plants a kiss on him. 

“I won't tell Scott,” she promises, because it's probably true. She won't tell him in real life, she'll just know for herself. “I can take your cock, please let me take it.”

They kiss for a minute, wet and messy, and she can feel him start to move again, thrusting up towards her. She moans unconsciously, moving her body down to meet his, desperate to feel him inside her. 

“Allison,” he warns, breaking the kiss. His mouth is wet and glittering. “Are you sure you want to?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, nodding urgently. “Yeah, daddy, I'm sure.”

He pulls his briefs down and thrusts inside her instantly, shocking her with the pain. It hurts in a sudden and sharp way, and Allison can feel herself tighten around him reflexively. His cock is long and thick and she panics for a minute. About the pain and then about everything. About being in the kitchen, letting this happen. What Scott would say. How she can't tell him, ever. 

Agent McCall's holding her though, around her waist and with a hand on her neck, and shushing her as she tries to stifle her cries. “Shh, it's OK,” he says, still thrusting. “You can, I know you can, you can do it.”

And then she remembers the choice. Remembers that she wants this. Remembers that after this, there's nothing left to burn.

So she tries to relax, kisses him, lets him thrust up into her and fuck her harder, harder, as the pain diminishes. “Daddy, daddy, yes,” she hears herself yelling. She comes unexpectedly just before he does, grinding down on her clit and letting out a little “Oh!” as it happens.  
But he doesn't stop, just picks up speed and rams into her until he comes, squeezing his arms around her and grunting. 

They sit there until she can feel the come start to drip out of her. 

/////

“Was it like that with him?” he asks later. “Did Scotty fuck you like daddy?”

Kind of, she thinks. 

“No,” she says out loud. “Not like that.”

Then she walks out of the locker room and back to the pool. She'll let him fuck her ass in the car later, and that won't be like anything else, ever, at all.


End file.
